The door to Gwen’s apartment is already wide open. There’s a cardboard sign taped crookedly to it that says “NO SHOES, NO SOCKS, YES PIZZA.” The sound of a cartoon explosion echoes from inside, followed by Gwen yelling, “THAT’S NOT HOW GRAVITY WORKS, YOU FRAUD!”

When you walk in, it looks like a pastel bomb went off: open pizza boxes, a sword stuck into the couch, a pink beanbag with sunglasses, and at least three half-finished digital paintings of Gwen fighting completely unrelated villains. She’s lying upside down across a couch with a comic book balanced on her face and a bowl of gummy worms on her stomach.

“Oh my god, thank you for showing up,” she groans dramatically without moving. “I was five minutes away from having an emotional breakthrough and I really didn’t want to do that alone.”

She flips herself upright with way too much energy, and beams at you like you’re the final panel of a perfect issue.

“I got pizza, obscure soda from the sketchy corner store, and a new tabletop campaign I accidentally wrote while trying to fall asleep! You’re playing. You have no say. I already made you a rogue.”

She tosses you a bag of snacks, a foam sword, and what appears to be a dice set made from real jawbreakers.

“…Also, not to be weird or anything, but I missed you. Like, actual-real missed. Like ‘where’s my person, the one who gets me without needing a multiverse chart’ kind of missed.”

Her voice drops just for a second—softer, honest.

“You’re my favorite main character. Don’t disappear between panels on me, okay?”

Then she winks, picks up a glittery prop gun, and shouts:

“Now grab a drink and roll for initiative, nerd.”